


After All

by CaptainErica



Category: Big Bang (Band), K-pop
Genre: Angels and Demons, Other, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainErica/pseuds/CaptainErica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been following each other for years upon years, but they never really realized it until now. Why is this happening to them? What is the purpose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've seen you before

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted, in full, at asianfanfics. But I'm having trouble with the site, so I'm putting most of my stories up here instead.  
> I hope you enjoy ^~^

Jiyong had an appointment to get to, but today, as with any other to be quite honest, he wasn’t really in much of a rush. No, he definitely had plenty of time. He looks down at the impressive silver and gold watch his host was sporting on his rather plump wrist and nodded inwardly; yep, he had plenty of time.

Normally Jiyong refrained from using hosts, as he felt that a human’s body was far from worthy of holding him; but there were a select few times that he would use one. Like now, for instance. Jiyong was sat at a table in the park just in front of a rather bustling café and across the road from a hospital. There was cemetery just on the opposite side of the park, a nasty bit of consecrated ground that he was far from able to step foot in or around, and there was a large fountain in the center of the park where small children were jumping around and screaming in a fashion that was far too jovial for Jiyong’s rather sensitive ears.

His meeting could wait if it came to that; he thought as he watched the entrance of the café. He knew, however, that he would make it to his meeting on time, just like he always did whenever this particular distraction showed up; because this distraction was always prompt and on time. His eyes dart down to the almost gaudy watch decorating his host’s wrist again (8 minutes) before jumping back up to the entrance of the café, just in time to watch a young man with dazzlingly blond hair emerge with an old woman hanging onto his arm.

Jiyong lets out a soft snort as he takes in the older woman’s appearance; her hair was thin, short, and white, and she walked with uneven and shaky steps. If Jiyong’s guess was correct, and it always was because it wasn’t a guess at all, the woman had maybe 48 hours to live, if that. If he were a betting man, which he most definitely was as it was kind of a part of the job, he would wager that she had a particularly healthy soul, was probably a widower or something similar, and had prayed recently. He lets out a sigh and re-crosses his legs before glancing down at the watch again (5 minutes).

He turns his gaze toward the blond haired man, the entire reason he was sitting there in the first place, and allows a smile to cross his host’s face (another reason why he used a host, there was no way his own face would ever be allowed to do such a heinous thing). The blond had an open and bright face, and if it weren’t for his somewhat large and slightly crooked nose, you would probably assume that he wasn’t of this world. He was a perfect specimen in basically every way, and Jiyong found himself completely unable to look away whenever they came into contact, which rather luckily for him didn’t happen all that often.

The blond looked in Jiyong’s direction suddenly, a smile slowly fading from his face as he turned away from the old woman to survey the surrounding area, and Jiyong panics for a moment before he remembers that he was in a host and so hopefully invisible. Their gazes lock, and Jiyong realizes just a little too late that he had never actually made eye contact with the man before. Jiyong had always known that the man was of the heavenly bent, definitely a do-gooder with all of the signs pointing to him making his way directly to heaven once he died; do not pass go, do not collect $200.

It wasn’t until exactly that moment that Jiyong realized what he was dealing with; he was coming perilously close to falling over the edge and into a rather deep and swirling pool that he would never be able to get out of. Jiyong was falling in love, and the blond-haired man of his dreams was an angel; an angel. Of all of the messed up things that could happen in Jiyong’s twisted little unlife, he had to find himself falling for an angel. He almost cursed when he realized it, the tingling heat burning down his spine as the angel looked at him, assessing his countenance and probably trying to decide what motives he had for being there. Jiyong couldn’t believe that he had never guessed at it before; the man was too perfect to be of mortal creation and he was too difficult for Jiyong to read with a glance.

Jiyong breaks the eye-contact first; the burning feeling caused by any type of contact between his kind and the angels was not one that he particularly enjoyed. He glanced down at the watch again and heaved a sigh before standing up and turning his back on the beautiful angel and his earthly charge. He had a meeting to get to and a meat suit to get out of.

** **

Daesung had noticed that presence before; it was a sharp attack on his senses, something that he couldn’t ignore. He’d never found the source, though he’d felt the presence multiple times over the past few hundred years. He felt rather stupid, actually, considering it had taken him this long to figure out that there was a demon that seemed to be tailing him. He dropped Mabel back off at the hospital, leaving her in her room and leaving with the nurses exclaiming over how shocked they were by Mabel’s ability to walk and hold a conversation when she hadn’t been able to do anything near that in well over a month. Daesung smiles politely to them as he wishes them a good day and ambles out the front door to bask in the glow of the early afternoon sun. He looks over at the bench that the demon had been sitting on and wonders briefly what he had been doing there, and if it was indeed the same thing that had been haunting him for all these years.

Daesung lets out a light sigh and turns toward the cemetery with a smile; Mabel was his last visit of the day, so it was time for him to get back. He walks through the park, smiling happily at every person that he passes before slipping silently through the gate of the cemetery. He pauses briefly, letting the thrum of energy from the consecrated ground run through him before he takes a deep breath and carries on toward a rather large statue of an angel that was hidden off to the side underneath a magnificent old willow. He smiles up at the statue and shoves his hands in his pockets as he takes one last look around at the silent graves. Turning back to the statue he closes his eyes and in an instant he vanishes, leaving absolutely no trace behind.


	2. Why now?

He could have kicked himself for not realizing it sooner, but he had been so caught up in his strange little obsession that he hadn’t even realized that he had been silently pining for the blond man for well over 300 years. Definitely not a mortal, his mind muttered, and Jiyong curses loudly. He controls himself before he gives in to the rather base urge to kick something, knowing that if he throws an obvious fit he will probably draw attention to himself; he can’t have that. He lets out a frustrated sigh instead and turns his attention to the watch on his wrist.

This watch was much more tasteful than the one his rather unfortunate host had been wearing just a few days before. It had a much more prestigious look to it, much less show-offy. It stated rather plainly that Jiyong was a man of means, though it left out just what type of means those were. He looks around the plain but stylish room he was standing in and decides that he needs a bit of…fresh... air. He takes a deep breath, takes a quick look at himself in the mirror, musters up a smirk, and with a snap of his fingers is gone.

He’s not certain why, but he always knows, without a shadow of a doubt where to find the angel. Jiyong had been rather covertly following the blessed being for far too long to not be able to just know, but given that his blond obsession had turned out to be an angel…he should have been a little more concerned by the fact that he was always so easy to find. But Jiyong was far from concerned, which was not exactly new for him but he definitely normally treaded on the side of cautious; he was, after all, a demon.

As a demon, it was rather understood that he could lie, steal, cheat, basically use any means to get what he wanted or what he was coming to collect. Jiyong was good at his job, good at his roll; good at his life. He had never been a human, not like some of the newer demons bred of hatred and issues with authority. They didn’t talk as smoothly as him, couldn’t cajole a soul away from the light the same way that he, and countless others of his kind, could. He would never begrudge them their lack of finesse though, as he had helped bring some of them over to the ‘dark side’ as some of the more amusing humans called it; but he couldn’t help but to be disgusted by them.

Jiyong barely remembered it, it had been so long ago, but he had once been an angel; just like the rest of his far more than ancient brethren. The ability to lie came at a price; every original demon had a rather hefty conscience. They all constantly felt the pull toward the divine, but their new-found independence was too heady a cocktail for them to fall on their proverbial knees and call for forgiveness.

Jiyong lets out a much harsher breath than intended, hating immediately the smells and sounds his own personal form was being subjected to as he walked out of the alleyway he’d appeared in and headed down the wide sidewalk toward a tall and impressive glass building. He pulls himself from his thoughts and focuses on his mission: a ‘lost’ soul with a wish for an end. Jiyong allows a smirk to tug up at the corner of his mouth as he walks through the front doors of the building and heads for the elevator. His eyes were set to ‘twinkling with malice and excitement’ as he wandered toward the wall of shining elevators with his hands tucked into his pockets; but he immediately tensed as he reached forward to press the ‘up’ button.

Instead of hitting the cool metal of the button, Jiyong’s hand had bumped into another hand. The jolt of almost painful but most definitely closer to pleasurable electricity that coursed up from the point where his hand had touched the other’s, jarred his senses momentarily and is what set his shoulders and forced the gleam out of his eyes as he tried to regain his composure. What’s happening to me?

He takes in a shaky breath as he allows his eyes to follow the hand as it retracts from pressing the button. With another stab to his senses, he realizes that it’s his angel, the one he’s been following around for hundreds of years without even realizing it.

“Good morning.” The angel says, and Jiyong feels like his insides are trying to crawl out of him in their haste to be caressed by the soothing, almost rough, sound of the angel’s voice.

“I suppose.” Jiyong says, thousands of years of stoicism helping to keep him from floundering for words. The elevator door opens and they both step inside; the angel gesturing for Jiyong to go in first before following closely behind.

“What floor?” The angel asks, and Jiyong suppresses a shudder as their eyes lock for the briefest of moments and he feels the familiar tingle of electricity shoot through him. It’s cut off as the angel turns back to the pad of numbers and Jiyong mutters a succinct “18” before allowing himself to wonder why contact with this angel didn’t set his teeth on edge or make him feel like he was burning from the inside out.

“Ahh, looks like we’re going the same way.” The angel says, a small smile present on his face, and amusement dancing in his eyes.

“It would seem so.” Jiyong bites out…or at least he tries to, but the words come out far less scathing than he would have preferred. The angel chuckles lightly and darts his gaze up toward Jiyong’s hair.

“It’s different from the other day.” He notes, blankly surprised by that fact.

“Just my hair?” Jiyong asks a little petulantly, and he could kick himself for doing so as the angel chuckles again and shakes his head lightly; his vanity was probably one of the worst of his sins.

“No…” The angel starts, before pausing as the elevator doors slide open and they exit onto the 18th floor. “But your hair is not usually black and pink, is it?” the angel finishes and Jiyong allows himself to regain his haughty composure as they near a board room at the end of the hall.

“No,” He finally admits, and the angel just nods in response before stopping in front of the double doors that lead into the board room and to the person they were both after.

“It’s rather funny that we were both assigned the same person.” Daesung says, his head tilted to the side as he lays one large, smooth hand on the handle.

“Funny, or cruel?” Jiyong asks briskly, before allowing the angel to open the door for him and usher him inside.

 

Benjamin Clydesly was not in the mood for visitors; not that he ever really was, to be perfectly honest. He had heard soft voices outside the door to the board room and had silently cursed the building’s inability to be human free for any length of time. When the door opened, he’d been shocked, as there hadn’t even been a knock.

“Excuse me,” He’d started, but soon found himself unable to continue as two very different, but equally imposing, men strode through the doors. The door swung shut softly behind them, a rather audible ‘click’ resounding throughout the room as they swung shut.

One of the men, broad-shouldered, bulky with muscle and an amazingly blond head of hair had a bright and caring smile etched onto his face. Benjamin would have bet everything that he owned that that man was at least a saint; no one smiled like that without an abundance of patience and happy contentedness. The other man, just a tad bit shorter than the first, was thin and almost wiry; though there was definitely an undercurrent of strength running through him. He had a face that brooked no nonsense, walked with a practiced elegance, and had a head of hair that was half black and half a rather vivid shade of pink. This man was much less saintly than his blond friend, but Benjamin couldn’t put a finger on why he felt that way.

“You’re excused.” The shorter man says, and Benjamin feels like he definitely pegged that man completely correctly; far from a saint, indeed.

The blond man makes a light clucking noise with his tongue and shakes his head lightly. “You’re being rude.” He says, though he doesn’t sound the least bit upset by that fact, merely chiding. “I would like to introduce myself, Benjamin Clydesly. My name is Daesung.” He says, before sweeping his hand out for a shake that Benjamin couldn’t have refused even if he felt compelled to. He grabbed Daesung’s hand in a strong handshake and cocked his head to the side, ready to ask a question as his hand fell back to his side; he hadn’t even realized he’d stood up.

“And I,” The shorter man says, his voice bringing to mind born luxury and a high amount of elegant classiness. “am Jiyong.” The way that Jiyong said it made Benjamin feel as though he had previously met the man and had rather rudely forgotten his name. He shakes the proffered hand in an efficient and very business-like way, before letting his hand fall back to his side.

“Ah…To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” Benjamin asks, deciding on formal politeness after a short couple of seconds. There is silence for a moment as the two men in front of him look at him calmly, as if they were trying to stare deep into his soul, and then Daesung smiles brightly and crowds Benjamin back into his chair with a strong hand on his back.

“Sit down, my friend, sit down!” Daesung says, and it’s boisterous and you can’t help but to obey and be happy about it. Benjamin barely notices Jiyong slip around the table to sit on his other side as Daesung claims the seat to his right.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you two.” Benjamin says, and he truly does feel sorry, because Daesung seems like someone that everyone should know and get along with, and Jiyong is definitely someone you wouldn’t forget.

“Oh, we know.” Jiyong says, and his lips quirk up in what could pass for a smile if one weren’t used to noticing those types of things. No, Benjamin recognized it as nothing more than a smirk, and he suddenly felt himself become rather wary of the elegant young man.

“But the time has come for us to meet, Mr. Clydesly, as, if I am not mistaken, you are facing a rather difficult time in your life. A crisis, if you will, of faith and life meaning.” Daesung says, and Benjamin drags his gaze from Jiyong to listen to Daesung’s soothing voice.

“I’ve not told…” Benjamin mutters, his voice going soft as his eyes go wide; no one knew how he had been feeling lately, he hadn’t told a soul.

“You might not have told a soul,” Jiyong says, and Benjamin marvels again at the clean and elegant way in which the young man speaks, though the harsh emphasis on the word ‘soul’ raises the hairs on the back of Benjamin’s neck. “But you asked for help, so here we are.” Jiyong raises his hands in a gesture that very clearly says ‘voila’, and Benjamin nods, leaning back in his chair and deciding that this is all probably a dream.

“I assure you, Mr. Clydesly, this is no dream. However, if it will help you to think of this as such, then by all means, continue to imagine this to be nothing more than an eye-opening dream.” Daesung says, and Benjamin nods, his eyes wide. This was most certainly a dream.

“So what are you going to say to help me?” Benjamin asks, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Jiyong’s eyes practically danced with excitement when he finished the question.

“I can say whatever you want me to say, Benjamin my friend. And I can promise quite a whole lot more.” Jiyong responds, leaning closer now. His voice was like silk, smooth and easy; but there was something not very pleasant about what he was saying that had Benjamin hoping that Daesung had a different offer.

“All that I can tell you, Mr. Clydesly, is the absolute truth.” Benjamin feels as though that is the better of the two options, he can tell, however, that Jiyong most certainly does not.

“What is that truth, if I may be so bold as to ask?” Benjamin says softly, and Daesung smiles brightly at him and pats his hand as he leans in.

“There are many truths, my dear friend, but I would prefer to wait until our next meeting to impart them upon you.” Benjamin furrows his brows, remembering the thoughts he’d had that morning about a potential end to the empty and aching loneliness and suffering he’d been feeling.

“When will we next meet?” He asks, suddenly far more worried about not being around to meet Daesung than he had been about meeting anyone in the past few years.

“Well, my friend, that depends upon you.” Daesung says before letting out a deep breath and leaning back. “I have my sights set on a date in the rather distant future.” He says, and Benjamin blinks for a couple of moments, as if he were processing that information.

“I have nothing to live for.” He says suddenly, surprising himself with the outburst. Daesung just smiles, albeit a little sadly, and shakes his head.

“No, my dear, dear friend. You have quite a lot to live for, and that is precisely the problem, isn’t it?” Benjamin opens his mouth to respond, realizes he doesn’t know what to say to that, and closes it again. Daesung, meanwhile, stands up and gestures to Jiyong, whom Benjamin had completely forgotten about. “I expect you to tell me all about Tracy and Hubert when next we meet, Mr. Clydesly.” Daesung says as he moves to leave. He places a hand briefly on Benamin’s shoulder in a gesture of friendly parting, and walks toward the door, Jiyong well ahead of him. “Until then!” Daesung says, before ducking out the door.

“Tracy and Hubert?” Benjamin mutters, wondering who exactly they are and why he would be telling Daesung about them. He decides that it doesn’t matter all that much, though, as his head is feeling a bit heavy and he had been up rather early that morning…

 

“You didn’t even try.” Daesung says, and though his words are accusing, his tone is not and Jiyong wishes that he understood how that was even possible.

“He was _not_ teetering on the edge.” Jiyong says, brushing imaginary dust off of his sleeves in an attempt to hide. “He was walking toward it. But one word from you and he was already headed in the opposite direction.”

“You could have changed that.” Daesung says softly, almost reproachfully; almost. But it wasn’t reproachful, it was more…hopeful? Jiyong didn’t want to think about that.

“His soul wasn’t worth the fight.” Jiyong says, and he doesn’t gain the satisfaction he had been hoping he would when Daesung rears away from him, eyes open wide.

“All souls are worth the fight.” Daesung says, and though Jiyong feels inexplicably bad about offending the angel, he can’t help but scoff.

“Even mine?” He asks, a dark smirk planted on his face. He doesn’t give Daesung a chance to answer before he gives a jaunty wave, snaps his fingers, and disappears.

“Even yours, Jiyong.” Daesung mutters, staring at the spot that the perplexing demon had just been.

Daesung knew that Jiyong was an old demon, an _original_ if you will, which just made the whole mess a lot more confusing. Why did they keep ending up in the same places? Even though they had never worked with the same person until today, Daesung knew that for hundreds of years, at least, Jiyong had been called to the same areas as him. That was the only way that Jiyong would have been able to follow him or watch him for all of those years.

There was a reason. There was always a reason. Just like there was a reason why Jiyong hadn’t fought for that man’s soul, and just like he hadn’t backed down when they made eye contact earlier. There was something different about Jiyong, something special. Daesung was going to get to the bottom of it.


	3. Where it all began

Jiyong only briefly entertained the idea of using a host for his little jaunt out into the human world; very briefly. The way that he figured it, Daesung would know that he was there no matter how he tried to disguise himself. He allows himself a sigh and a thorough once over in the mirror before snapping his fingers and reappearing in an alleyway. He allows his body to adjust to the sights sounds and smells of the new area for a brief moment before walking out onto the sidewalk, straightening his suit jacket as he went. He’d decided on a rather vibrant red color for his hair this time, and he wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on the fact that he’d mostly done it to see Daesung’s reaction. 

This time Jiyong was most definitely on the hunt; he was looking for Daesung, and his weird little angel-dar had pointed him in the direction of an old graveyard in the countryside of a rather decidedly secular area of the world. He wouldn’t risk it though, there was always the chance that someone had somehow blessed the graves or the ground over the years; Heaven only knew what religion the people who had been buried there had been practicing. No, Jiyong would stay to the outskirts and move his way in slowly once he had pinpointed Daesung and he felt comfortable with the lack of consecration.

It didn’t take him long to walk out of the small and only slightly urban area that he had appeared in, and onto a dirt path that led out to the ruins of much older cities. He paused by what he imagined was once a marketplace, and tried to pinpoint what it was about this place that had drawn him to look here first. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to think of anything, when he looked up and saw an old tree surrounded by the ruins of what he immediately recognized as a temple. It hit him almost immediately, as there was no way that he could have known just by looking so quickly that those toppled stones were once a temple; but he did, just as surely as he now understood why he had come here first.

The very first time that he had seen his angel was not a mere 300 years ago. No, it was probably a thousand years or more ago, when these ruins were grand buildings bustling with trade and thousands of people just waiting to be brought down the road to sin. When Jiyong had still been relatively new to the whole lying and cheating and stealing thing; when it had only been a relatively short time since he and the rest had fallen and he was still getting used to the aching need for forgiveness battling deep within him against his triumphant love of himself and freedom. 

He had walked among these grand buildings and talked to people, whispered delicious lies into their ears and started awful rumors. He had wandered round the outskirts of the temple by the tree, tempting people away from worship with a few quick words. It had been under that tree that he had first seen his angel. Daesung had had brown hair then, almost black, and he had been smiling brilliantly while talking with an attendant of the temple. Jiyong had seen him and felt suddenly afraid, very, very afraid. The kind of fear that cripples you and makes you stumble backward as though you’d been hit rather forcefully in the chest. They had made brief eye contact then, but Jiyong hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out anything more than that the brilliant smile belonged to an angel; and that had scared him even more.

He was perpetually afraid of desiring to be an angel again. The ache in his chest and mind was always worse the closer that he was to a church of some sort or place of holiness; he ached without the presence of God, and it was almost worse because he had chosen to live that way. Sometimes, sometimes that knowledge made him hate humans more and so made it easier to keep his head and continue on with his…life…but sometimes, sometimes all he wanted was the comfort of His presence. It didn’t help that while sitting in the board room the other day he hadn’t once felt the ache, nor had he felt anything but content the entire time he was being ignored by the human.

He had only managed to regain even a semblance of his self because Daesung had ushered him out of the room like a useless being that couldn’t do anything for himself, and then had the audacity to ask him why he hadn’t fought for the human’s soul. He didn’t want the human’s soul, nope. Even his mind couldn’t come up with a good answer.

But this, this was why he was here instead of anywhere else in the entire world. His angel would be here because this is where they first locked eyes. Jiyong allows himself to hope that Daesung will again have dark hair, as he found it almost as attractive as the blond that he had become so accustomed to. He allowed himself a small smirk as he thought about it; maybe his angel had a fun side to him. Jiyong shakes himself out of his thoughts and with a new spring in his step, he walks down the path until he reaches the outskirts of the graveyard. It was most definitely consecrated, as all final resting places were (though he sometimes liked to kid himself into thinking that just maybe some weren’t), so he decided to skirt around the edges until he found an area that he could walk on.

The best part, he decides as he strolls casually down a small foot path he had found at the base of a tree, about old graveyards is that for the most part only each individual grave was consecrated. He had spotted his angel while he stood underneath the shade of a tree and looked out over the vast expanse of land before him. The angel was standing near a large burial mound somewhere in the middle of the site, so Jiyong had set off in his direction, not particularly knowing what to do once he got there, but knowing that he couldn’t very well just stand at the base of the tree and do nothing.

“You’re a peculiar demon, Mr. Kwon.” Daesung says, and it’s more of a breath than actual words but Jiyong hears it anyway.

“How do you…” Jiyong starts to ask, but changes gears quickly as it was stupid of him to assume that Daesung wouldn’t know everything about him by now. “Never mind. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Daesung asks, turning around at last. Jiyong was shocked to note that Daesung’s hair was definitely an interesting shade of purple instead of the vibrant blond it had been before. He realizes a little late that he had been staring, but he was mostly upset that he hadn’t noticed the angel’s hair color before it had turned around.

“You could.” Jiyong says with practiced ease, fighting the sudden impulse to run that he tended to only feel around this angel.

Daesung smiles broadly and tilts his head to the side. “But you wouldn’t answer me, would you?” Jiyong shakes his head slowly, a smirk slowly making its way onto his face. “And you wouldn’t answer me if I asked why you have been following me all these years, either, would you?” Again, Jiyong just shakes his head and again, Daesung smiles. “I guessed as much.” He says on a sigh before turning back to the burial mound.

“To think I would tell you my secrets is laughable.” Jiyong says, but he says it softly and regrets it almost immediately, which is new for him. Daesung, for his part, merely chuckles.

“Is it?” He asks, and Jiyong suddenly hates himself and his inability to do or say anything that can’t be considered thinly veiled hostility. “I think that there is much more to this than you are letting on, or than you even know.” Daesung says, and Jiyong wishes that Daesung would look at him, because he wants to feel that awful burning sensation rip through his senses; he wants to be reminded that he can’t just calmly converse with an angel and not suffer any consequences.

Mostly, mostly Jiyong wants to hate Daesung and feel repulsed or repelled by the beautiful angel’s existence. But he can’t, it’s becoming less and less possible and Jiyong is losing hope for that kind of respite just a little bit more after every single encounter.

“I want to hate you.” Jiyong says suddenly, filling the awful silence with the cool smoothness of his voice. Daesung turns to look at him then, his eyes shining in amusement and a lopsided grin on his face.

“You don’t?” Daesung asks, with mock surprise, though it’s merely playful and gentle and it makes Jiyong’s insides quiver. Their eyes meet and Jiyong doesn’t feel the pain he’s accustomed to, and he should have expected that because he hadn’t really felt it the last time their eyes had met either.

“I want to stop finding you.” Jiyong says, finding himself unable to stop his thoughts from rushing out of his mouth. He knows that it is probably the angel’s doing, and even though he would normally be really angry about that…he can’t bring himself to care enough to look away. The feeling, like a jolt of electricity running down his spine, is addictive and it’s exactly what he wanted to feel; he didn’t care that the angel was probably using his powers to force the truth from him. He honestly didn’t.

“I’m not hiding from you.” Daesung whispers, and Jiyong makes a noise that he wishes he could classify as the scoff he had intended it to be, but it probably sounded more like a whimper.

“I never said that you were.” He responds once he finds his voice, and Daesung smiles.

“I thought about it, though. I wondered what it would take for you to not be able to find me. You’ve been following me for such a long time. Watching me without my knowledge…I wanted to see if I could sneak up on you.” Daesung lets out a small laugh and looks back up at the burial mound, and Jiyong can’t help but to wonder what is so special about it. “It didn’t take me long to place you, you know. I remembered you once I really thought about it. That day, in the agora back there…I was talking to the temple attendants and you were lurking behind the main hitching post, trying to hide behind a horse. I’d been shocked when I’d laid eyes on you, and even more shocked when you stared directly into my eyes without flinching…that is until you turned and ran in the opposite direction.”   
Jiyong feels his cheeks go hot and it’s such an unnatural sensation that he presses the back of his hand against it. “I wasn’t lurking.” He says, the venom in his voice a natural occurrence; Daesung didn’t even blink.

“And I was intrigued…but I couldn’t keep my attention on you as I had other business to attend to.” Daesung looks back up at the burial mound and lets out a sigh. “I wonder how differently our relationship would have been had I followed you that day. I know you didn’t disappear, Jiyong, you stayed in that city for a good few days.” Daesung hooks his thumb back toward the burial mound that he had been paying so much attention to, and Jiyong looks up at it, studying it carefully as he waits for Daesung to continue. “I know, because this man died after a young man in his care became greedy and killed him for his money.” Daesung tilts his head to the side and searches Jiyong’s face for a moment. “The boy got away with it, but that you probably know. What he didn’t get away without was guilt, which he felt for the rest of his short life.” Daesung lets out a soft sigh, but Jiyong just shrugs and looks up at the burial mound.

“I don’t force them to do anything. What they do with the suggestions I give is their own decision, and whether or not they even take my advice is their own decision as well. That’s the lovely thing about humans,” Jiyong says, a mocking smile on his face. “They can choose what they want to do or believe, with little to know consequences at times.” Daesung doesn’t look affected by those words, which just makes Jiyong feel even more ornery; he just wants Daesung to react to him in some way.

“But yet, for all of an angel’s supposed lack of choice, here you stand.” Daesung says, and it sounds pitying which just makes Jiyong angry.

“I don’t want advice; I don’t want your sympathy. I ache and I’m in pain and I lie and I cheat and you don’t even seem to care.” Jiyong says, and it comes out as more of a whine toward the end and Jiyong winces inwardly as he tries to figure out how to handle the possible backlash.

“You feel so many emotions,” Daesung says softly, and Jiyong wonders rather suddenly what it would take to rattle Daesung so that he looked just as unbalanced as Jiyong felt.

“What an astute statement, my angel fair.” Jiyong says, and turns away; he was done for the day, being around Daesung drained him in so many ways that he couldn’t really understand.

“Are you going?” Daesung asks, and Jiyong allows himself to imagine that there is a little bit of sadness in the question.

“What does it look like I’m doing, angel baby?” He asks, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. He was rewarded with a rather confused look on the angel’s face that only made his smile broader.

“Oh…” Daesung mutters, but Jiyong can hear it, and it thrills him far more than it probably should.

“Until we meet again!” Jiyong chirps happily, and with a rather exaggerated turn and bow, he disappears.

Because being around Daesung was dangerous. Because he knew that he had fallen for the angel, and he knew that that was not only unfair, but extremely unfortunate. He was a demon; demons didn’t love...did they? Well obviously…. Jiyong was going to take this, this…infatuation into his own hands. He was going to make Daesung squirm. Because he was a demon in love with an angel, and he couldn’t do this in any way other than dirty, underhanded, and secret.

Because he didn’t know what the alternative was…and he wasn’t sure he was ready to find out.


	4. And Now?

“You weren’t even on time.” Jiyong says lazily. He was sitting on a stack of crates next to the wreckage caused by his most recent appointment. His legs were crossed and he was leaning back slightly, his arms folded over his chest and his eyebrows raised in a defiant challenge.

Daesung’s eyes travel quickly over the lifeless bodies hidden somewhat behind the crates before landing on Jiyong. “You were early.” He says softly, and Jiyong almost feels bad for doing his job; almost feels bad for the pain that he can see reflected in Daesung’s eyes. “Why did you wait?” He asks, barely waiting at all to let the words fall from his lips; if this were a movie there would have been a long dramatic pause while things were processed, but Daesung’s anguish was too great and this was most definitely not something written by mortal hand.

Jiyong shrugs delicately, sitting forward a bit and unfolding his arms so that he can place his hands on his knees. “Merely wanted to see the outcome.” He says, and he knows that Daesung knows it’s a lie, because Jiyong hates seeing the outcome of his own work. Jiyong can barely stomach bloodshed and he always leaves before anything actually happens; he doesn’t like knowing exactly what he’s caused.

In fact, most of the original demons refused to see their work through, residual feelings for the mortals that they had convinced themselves they despised made it hard to watch, hard to understand, hard to see what was happening. Jiyong never stayed, not ever, and he most certainly wouldn’t have stayed to see the outcome of something that was going to end in death; because that was the ultimate blow to the small amount of conscience that his mind had been unable to squash out. No, they both knew that Jiyong hadn’t stayed to see the carnage, and if Daesung stopped to think about it hard enough, he would probably guess that Jiyong hadn’t actually seen any of the fighting; though that guess would be inaccurate as Jiyong had forced himself to sit off to the sidelines and at least kind of watch so that he could prove to himself that he could.

Daesung doesn’t call him out on his lie though, and Jiyong almost wishes that he had, because then he could have said something petty about how Daesung must really like him to know so much about him. No, instead of calling him out on it, Daesung takes a deep and steadying breath (a rather horribly human thing to do) and looks him directly in the eyes. “What did you gain from this?” Daesung’s voice was soft and feathery light, but the pain blazing through it made the would-be comforting sound grate mercilessly upon Jiyong’s already disturbed conscience. “What are you gaining from all of the things you’ve done?”

And Jiyong doesn’t know how to answer because he hadn’t planned for these questions. No he had planned for the normal round of formal and polite conversation that all angels and demons spoke in. He had prepared for Daesung’s righteous and God-approved anger at the needless loss of would-be innocent lives. He hadn’t prepared himself for the possibility that Daesung might be personally affected. He hadn’t paid attention to the small things that showed that Daesung was not of the upper echelon of stone-cold angels. Daesung was one of the many normal angels, the guardians, who wandered about the Earth and helped those in need of something to live for and something to keep them on the straight and narrow. For Daesung, each life was precious because he wasn’t tasked with over-seeing other angels or with keeping tabs on certain demons. No, Daesung was one of the angels that all of the higher angels sometimes wished that they could be, and that a good majority of the original demons once were. He was a foot soldier, of sorts; created along with all of the rest but not an Archangel, not of the first or second choirs. No, Daesung was just an angel and he was tasked with helping individual souls, with taking orders from all eight ranks above him.

Not all of the original demons had been that ‘low’ on the angel scale (though one can’t really call it low because all of the angels were equal in God’s eyes) but they all knew the ranks by heart, and remembered, though distantly, where they had once belonged. Jiyong feels rather more worthless than being near the massacre had made him feel; how could he have fallen in love and not even taken the time to pay attention? Daesung, he knew, knew quite a bit more about him than he knew about Daesung. He had been being his own selfish and vanity loving self; Daesung was beautiful and perfect and there was something about him that made Jiyong’s physical form ache. He was blinded by the brilliance of the angel and the foolish mask he used to protect the selfishness that he had won the right to have so long ago.

“What am I gaining?” Jiyong asks, and his voice doesn’t waiver, but it doesn’t need to because Daesung is just that much better at reading him. His uncertainty is flowing off of him in waves and the short time that had passed while he contemplated Daesung instead of answering was enough for Daesung to guess that Jiyong didn’t really know.

“You aren’t gaining anything from all of this senseless bloodshed that you have been instigating for the past few months.” Daesung says, and Jiyong wishes that the anger in Daesung’s voice were real, and not just a cover for the pity that he knew the angel felt for him.

“Then why haven’t you stopped me?” Jiyong asks, and it sounds desperate even to his own ears and he’s kind of uncertain why and it angers him because he is not weak, not senseless, not in need of the angel’s approval. _But you are in need of it_. And that was precisely the problem.

Daesung contemplates him briefly before his attention is drawn back to the scene of the massacre where the police and paramedics have arrived. It’s too late, of course, everyone is dead, but it warms Daesung’s heart to see the humans trying to salvage any amount of life that they can for these people that they have never met. Jiyong watches Daesung contemplate and wonders if he could ever get Daesung to look at him like that, like the entire world was restored to its rightful place and like everything was perfect just because his eyes were on him. Daesung takes in another deep breath and presses his eyes closed tightly before returning his gaze to Jiyong.

“If I had tried, would you have stopped?” Daesung asks, and Jiyong feels like he’s back on the battlefield, like he’s back to listening to the orders from the Virtues and the Seraphim that made him feel small and useless as he was tasked with keeping the border between Heaven and Earth intact. “Or would you have done something more extravagant?” Jiyong rolls his eyes and looks away, his body running on autopilot as his brain tries to work out how to talk himself out of this situation. “Because I wanted to try, I really did. But I wanted to see how far you would go.” Daesung nods over at the nine bodies being diligently taken care of. “And this is how far, this is as far as you are willing to go, and I know this because you waited instead of running away this time.”

Jiyong hates how perceptive Daesung is, and wonders briefly if he had ever thought of Daesung’s rank of angels as anything more than just the closest to the humans. He knows somewhere deep down that he hadn’t, especially after hearing the poisonous speeches against the humans and the way the angels were treated. No, Jiyong had only ever felt sorry for the lowest rank of angels, felt sorry for their soft hearts and humanity. He had never understood how they could be so understanding of human emotion, but not be able to feel the full range of it themselves, and not even be upset that they couldn’t. Jiyong had relished in the sudden onslaught of emotion that he had gained along with his fellow fallen and had enjoyed every minute, most particularly all of the more ‘sinful’ emotions. Choice is what he had gained, but he hadn’t realized until now just how human both the angels and the demons really were. They weren’t given choice as angels, they believed and knew and accepted whole-heartedly, but it was the same kind of love and devotion that the humans were given. The demons gained choice, and with it came the tumultuous and oftentimes impossible to handle emotions that they had never felt as beings that loved unconditionally; hate, anger, malice, greed all became center stage for the demons, the only thing left being the small amount of conscience that came with the ability to choose. They were so human, so infuriatingly like the mortals that he had convinced himself to hate, that he was suddenly sick from the thought of it.

And it was all because of an angel of the lowest rank. He had obviously misjudged them, or maybe Daesung was just different.

“I could do worse.” Jiyong says, and it’s a lie, and Daesung dismisses it as if it hadn’t even been said.

“But what I really want to know is why I keep being assigned to the same people and places as you.” Daesung says, and Jiyong starts to feel antsy because he had only briefly wondered why it was so easy for him to find his angel whenever he wanted to see him. “Because that seems a little more than just coincidental, don’t you think? And I’ve been thinking” Daesung continues without waiting for Jiyong to answer or even really to think, “that maybe I’m not being assigned to the people so much as I’m being assigned to you.”

Jiyong wants to say that that is the most ridiculous thing that he has ever heard, especially since Daesung isn’t of the correct rank to be assigned to deal with Demons, but he also knows that rank never really mattered to any of the angels except for those who were cast down. “You’re doing an awful job.” Jiyong says, and that makes Daesung smile. The smile is bright and big and Jiyong wants to shield his eyes because just, _God_ how could one being pack so much light and hope and warmth into a flash of teeth?

“You act angry and tough and acidic, Jiyong, but it’s not how you feel.” Daesung says, and Jiyong doesn’t think that’s fair because he most certainly does feel angry and tough and acidic; he just doesn’t right now and he can’t help that fact any more than he can help the feelings that claw their way through him whenever Daesung smiles.

Jiyong swallows lightly and with barely a movement he’s standing in front of Daesung, holding onto the angel’s chin with three fingers and looking deep into its eyes. “I wonder what type of war would start if I kissed you?” Jiyong muses aloud, and he’s happy to see confusion and shock replace the smug look of calm triumph that had settled onto the perfect lines of Daesung’s face.

“I don’t…” Daesung starts, but he’s cut off by Jiyong roughly pressing their lips together. Jiyong pulls back and allows his gaze to travel over Daesung’s face, pausing briefly on the angel’s lips before trailing up to its eyes.

“You don’t what, angel? Comprehend?” Daesung tries to shake his head but Jiyong has a firm hold of his chin. “I’m going to make it hard for you, you know.” He says softly, seductively, as he drags his free hand lightly along Daesung’s shoulder and arm. “Because I happen to like tormenting you.” He continues, and Daesung gulps, causing Jiyong’s eyes to travel to the bobbing Adam’s apple in the angel’s neck. “And if the end goal is me being an angel again…” Jiyong releases Daesung’s chin and trails his fingers lightly down the angel’s neck as he leans in closer. “Then I want to feel as much as I can before that happens.”

He disappears before Daesung can even comprehend the slight nip to the ear he had received as Jiyong finished his proclamation. All that was left of the demon, aside from the mess he had left behind the crates, was the faint sound of a dark and seductive chuckle. It took a deep breath and a small shake of the head to get him back on solid ground for long enough that he could disappear too.

Jiyong was a tricky one, but now that he understood; now that he knew for sure that his real mission was Jiyong…Daesung was going to be ready for the demon. The next time that they met would be different; Daesung would be ready.


End file.
